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When he finished his speech he began to
walk down the aisle between the seats. No one paid attention to
his words. The more polite did their best to seem engaged in some
preoccupation. Those who read continued to read, the talkers kept
talking. Nothing. No expression. Their blank faces didn't let a
single emotion show through.
When you take the Metro everyday, like I do, you know you'll have
to deal with homeless people at least once or twice a day. You become
hardened. But this was Saturday, and the people riding the train
seemed different: a group of young men about 25, two Rastas, a big
beautiful blonde with curly hair and three others who got on at
the next stop.
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